It usually took a bit more effort than that to get rid of her, but maybe she sensed that she’d pushed Wade far enough that afternoon. With another hmmph and a shake of her head, she marched out of his office, closing the door behind her with a firm snap. Wade resisted the temptation to throw something at that same door in sheer exasperation.
Wow. Emily hadn’t been kidding about the gossip around here. If Martha could be that brazen to Wade’s face, heaven only knew what she’d been saying behind his back.
But he told himself he wasn’t going to worry about that. It was none of the town’s business what relationship—if any—he had with Emily McBride.
He remembered Emily’s airy statement that she wouldn’t have to worry about the gossip because she wouldn’t be around much longer. And he scowled—as he always did when he thought of Emily moving away.
If it was up to him, she wouldn’t be going anywhere—at least, not anytime soon.
Problem was, Emily didn’t think he had anything at all to say about her plans. Well, he was just going to have to see what he could do about changing her mind.
EMILY HAD a meeting Monday evening that lasted until nearly nine o’clock. As she drove home, tired from a day of work and socializing—and from a long night of thinking about Wade’s kisses—she told herself that her community-service days were almost over. At least in Honoria.
In the new life she envisioned for herself, she might occasionally get involved in projects that served society, but it would be at her own discretion, she privately vowed. When she felt like it. She would no longer be at the beck and call of people who had gotten all too accustomed to counting on her.
She stretched as she climbed out of her car. It had been a very long day. She was looking forward to getting inside, where she would make herself a cup of hot tea and snuggle onto the sofa to read or watch TV—and try not to think about Wade.
With her thoughts centered on the sexy chief of police, she shook her mother’s heavy bracelet back on her arm to keep it out of the way as she pushed her key into the lock of her front door. Nothing seemed in the least out of the ordinary to her—until she stepped into her house. Suddenly, she had a sense that something was wrong. Hadn’t she left a lamp on to greet her when she arrived? What...?
A blow on the back of her head made her stagger, her ears ringing, her stomach lurching in response to the violent pain. And then something hit her again. She plunged to the floor and into a darkness that echoed with terror.
WADE HAD TOLD HIMSELF he wasn’t going to stop by Emily’s house that evening. Wasn’t even going to call her. He wanted to give her a little time to think about what had happened between them in her kitchen. And he didn’t want to appear too eager...after all, he had his pride to think of.
As he found himself turning into Emily’s driveway, he came to the rueful conclusion that he had no pride—or self-control—when it came to Emily McBride.
He hadn’t even made a conscious decision to drive to her house. He’d tucked his son into bed, and then, after telling Cecilia he’d be home later, he’d climbed into his Jeep and turned the key. He often went back to his office after Clay went to sleep; he liked being there in the evenings when there were fewer interruptions and he could plow his way through the piles of paperwork that always seemed to accumulate on his desk.
But he hadn’t gone to his office, or even steered the Jeep in that general direction. He had driven straight to Emily’s, as if drawn by a force he simply couldn’t resist. Which wasn’t a bad way to describe his overall reaction to Emily since the first time he’d seen her.
He knew the minute he climbed out of his Jeep that something was wrong. Her car was parked in its usual place, but the house was dark. And the front door was standing open.
Instincts honed by years of police work kicked in, and Wade broke into a run. “Emily?”
He paused only a moment in the doorway. ?
??Emily?” he yelled.
He thought he heard someone moan. He ran into the house, only to almost stumble over her where she lay on the living-room floor. Cursing frantically beneath his breath, he groped for a light switch. Light finally flooded the room.
Emily lay tumbled on the carpet, her golden curls tangled, her face pale, her long skirt twisted around her legs. The living room had been trashed—drawers opened, books strewn, cushions tossed on the floor. A small table was overturned next to Emily, the knickknacks that had been displayed on it scattered around her.
His heart stopping, Wade went down on one knee beside her. “Emily? Honey?”
To his relief, her eyelids fluttered, then opened, squinting against the light.
Very carefully, his hand not quite steady, he brushed her hair back from her face. The darkening lump on her forehead caused him concern, as did the blood trickling from a small cut in the center of it She must have hit the table as she’d fallen.
She focused on him intently, as though trying to remember his name. “Wade?” she said after a moment, her voice hoarse.
“Yes. Can you see me clearly?”
“I was thinking of you,” she murmured, still drifting. “When I walked in...”
He ran his hands over her arms and legs, then carefully probed the back of her head. The large lump he found there both appalled and infuriated him.
Someone had hit her.
“I’m going to call for an ambulance,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “You lie still.”